


Loaded

by slodwick



Series: Visitation [2]
Category: Smallville
Genre: Gen, Grief
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2003-04-10
Updated: 2003-04-10
Packaged: 2017-10-21 08:19:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 480
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/223039
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/slodwick/pseuds/slodwick





	Loaded

Lex stumbled getting out of the limo, but he didn't fall. Finding his feet again, he breathed deep and started down the narrow path. It was still dark, but the deep indigo sky above him was giving way to lavender over the eastern horizon behind him. The morning sun was a distant promise, but it still gave him more courage than the whiskey had.

The bars had all closed over an hour ago, but he didn't want to go home. He'd feared the penthouse would be too quiet, the inescapable facts of alone all too clear in the empty chair beside him. He needed more distraction. However, Metropolis seemed quiet as a tomb, and that thought brought a dark smile to his face.

The monument loomed ahead of him, a barely discernible shape in shades of black on black. It didn’t matter. Lex had memorized it long ago, when it was home to only one of his parents. His feet didn't seem to remember quite so well as his brain, though, because they failed to find the first shallow step, and he collapsed onto the hard ground. He didn't even try to get up, instead spreading himself out on the grass, arms and legs spread wide.

Tipping his head back, he stared ahead, his eyes adjusting the growing light. The ground seemed to shift beneath his back, making him dizzy. For a moment, the colossal marble gravestone became two. Lex just stared, waiting for it to became one again.

His skin prickled, goose bumps running up and down his arms. His back was chilled, his shirt, clammy wet with overnight dew. His breath spread out in a thin cloud above him, but the real winter was over, and the ground beneath him was soft. Pressing down, humming something low and indistinct, he burrowed fingers into the dirt. He'd created a rather impressive hole before it occurred to him that he might be lying on someone else's grave.

That thought was incredibly disturbing, and he rolled onto his side, arms pushing, anxious to be upright and in control again. The sudden movement was too much, and a stomach full of whiskey and bile and sorrow poured out of him, into the groove he dug in the ground. He wiped his mouth on the back of his hand and pushed a handful of dirt at the hole, trying to hide it, but the sun was keeping its promise.

When Lex found his legs, he turned from the grave. He didn’t trace the letters in his mother's name, an old ritual forgotten or forsaken, and he ignored the tears staining his cheeks. He didn't even look at the fresh white lettering next to hers, still too new to have traditions beyond denial. He just followed the path back to the waiting limo, fighting to stay standing, and hoping to make it to sunrise.


End file.
